Conversation Among the Ruins
by munchkinjenny05
Summary: AU-Punk!Faberry- From the moment Quinn meets Rachel she makes assumptions, and her judgement almost ruins everything. It's only when Rachel tells a few home truths that Quinn realises, it's herself and her own place in the world that she is unsure of...


**This story didn't turn out the way I expected it too, but they rarely do. I wanted to do something different, I always go to the "Beth place" for my source of angst so I wanted to put that aside and imagine what it would be like if Quinn was never kicked out since I picture life in the Fabray house as a mental endurance test.**

**This story is born out of my head cannon for Punk!Faberry and inspired by the hotness of Lea Michele/Rachel Berry during the body swap in 'Props.' All the poetry I used as a sort of page break is from Baudelaire's '**_**Les fleurs du mal'**_**.**

_**Blue hair, enclosing tent of darkness, you bring back to me the blue of the measureless round sky...**_

It started with a flash of blue in her peripheral vision. Amidst the day old mascara that cluttered her lashes, the vivid colour called to her like a beacon in the sea of beige and grey. All the same, she remained cautious, scarcely daring to let her gaze flicker upward and dwell on the waves of streaked hair and the upturned smirk. One glimpse had already nearly killed her. Her eyelids were scorched, leaving her terrified. The girl would, of course, forever deny that her heart fluttered as she took in the sight and listened to the sounds of doc martens on the scuffed linoleum. Nevertheless, it was true.She had been lead astray at the first inkling of a pretty face, softening, wanting, and hoping. She couldn't let anyone see. Quinn Fabray did not chase, she did not whimper, she did not pine. If she had been able to watch herself from above, she would have been sickened.A cigarette seemed like the best cure for her ailing nerves, so she pushed herself up, shoulders back and walked the path of least resistance towards the door.

She felt it before the girl had even made eye contact, that irrepressible tingle on the back of her neck, telling her that the stranger had already hooked her in. She had never failed to be overwhelmed like this before meeting anyone significant. It was like a spidey sense, but for hot girls and doomed romances. It was her potential downfall. Regardless, she was driven towards the brunette like a gravitational pull, even as she cursed herself for giving in. Her defences shot up, not a moment too late. Such things were always vital; after all, appearances could be deceiving, it seemed like the other girl would understand, be able to relate to the alienation of being on the fringes, skirting what was deemed acceptable, but it was too early to tell. Maybe she had no need to be distrustful and she could safely forget about being judged on her choices or pigeonholed because of her hair, piercings or the ink on her skin, but perhaps this stranger had a fondness for mockery or a bad attitude that eclipsed her own. Therefore, Quinn was ready to swing if she must.

"Hi." It was that simple. A single word exchanged without malice or suspicion on the other girl's part. She was surprised, but not in the way that she liked. The brunette's voice wasn't low or husky at all, and her greeting was without the jaded edge that Quinn had come to associate with the lost kids, as she dubbed them. Alarm bells started ringing immediately. The perky tone marked the stranger out as a pretender and she began to back away. Her kindred spirit wasn't to be found here, amongst the faint odour of mint that invaded her nostrils. The new arrival kept digging a deeper hole, unaware. "I'm Rachel." The girl added, flashing a smile that was both open and warm. The expression stopped Quinn's heart. She felt her plans, constructed upon the spur of the moment as she put one foot in front of the other, wither away. She was once again left with nothing to look forward to. This Rachel, whoever she was, wasn't a fun distraction to fill her day.

Quinn's own face struggled not to contort into a grimace; she fought to keep it blank, with an air of patronising bemusement, her default setting, even as she was dying inside. Those three simple words had made everything fall apart. It was ruined and she was back to nothing. It wouldn't even be fun to corrupt Rachel, this girl was too pure, aside from her literal cleanliness which was almost startlingly obvious up close; it was evident that optimism just poured out of her. "I don't need this." Quinn muttered with distaste, already seeking distance from her foolish mistake.

Rachel was of course perplexed and she didn't bother to hide it. "Excuse me, but you approached me…" She reached out, a brightly coloured pamphlet in her extended hand. Quinn bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. She was furious. Everything made sense now, the other girl wasn't looking for refuge, she was playing saviour, another smug Samaritan. "If there is anything I can help you with I-" Quinn cut the rest of that sentence off eagerly with a well timed eye-roll, feeling sick to her stomach but refusing to acknowledge it. The paper was thrust into her hand and she crumpled it angrily.

"The only thing I require, Rachel…" She made a point of spitting the name out like it was rotten, "is for do-gooder crusaders like you to find a new project and get the hell off my turf. Seriously, aren't there some hungry orphans in Africa you could devote your time to, if you want to be a better citizen?" She paused, hitting the girl with the full force of her carefully honed glare. To her credit, the petite brunette didn't falter, but Quinn refused to be impressed. She continued unabated. "I have an awesome idea, there are some homeless guys by the tracks that I'm sure would just love to be 'helped' by a girl like you, they'd be sure to make full use of your special 'skills'." It was overly harsh, but she was pissed and looking for an out. The brunette's mouth gaped open like a floundering goldfish. It was safe to assume that Rachel had never had a charitable act thrown back in her face before, but Quinn didn't care, she was outraged. She had fallen for a good girl playing dress up. Without another word, Quinn barged out the double doors and didn't look back. She didn't deal in regrets. At any rate, she had bigger problems now. She had to find a new place to while away the hours since there was no way she would risk showing her face in that building again.

_**Can we light up a muddy, black sky? Can we tear through darkness thicker than pitch, without morning or evening, without stars?**_

Quinn kept to her word; she was nothing if not stubbornly resolute. However, the world was singularly hell-bent on ignoring her wishes it appeared, if what happened next was any indication. The girl didn't know why she was shocked, since the universe fucking her over and disregarded what she wanted was hardly a new development, but nevertheless, she didn't expect to run into Rachel again so abruptly, less than a week later. The coincidental meeting occurred on the street of all places. She cringed, but ultimately carried on walking since she had a distinct lack of options.There was nowhere to hide in plain sight. She could pretend she hadn't seen, but they both knew she had, and the pair of them were illuminated against the drab sidewalk, sticking out like sore thumbs as they slid between suits and non- descript trench coats.

Of all occasions for her to run into the annoying brunette, it would have to be during the course of the worst day ever when her temper was already frayed. She had been left stranded, with hardly any credit, and a group of contacts either in the same boat or otherwise indifferent to her plight. Quinn kept trying because it was all she could do, but she lost her motivation when Ronnie went straight to voicemail and her numerous texts to Sheila remained unanswered. Her progress was only further hindered by the fact that the sole member of the group who could usually be relied upon to rescue her during dilemmas like these, was the one who had left her in the situation in the first place, and even if she hadn't emphatically shown Quinn the door, Mack didn't have a phone for her to call, not any more. She hadn't meant to do it, the phone had connected with the wall far too fast, not that it mattered since the shattered screen couldn't be undone. Hazel eyes lingered over the blood that haphazardly dried and scabbed across her left hand. The only truth recognised was that Quinn had outstayed her welcome, so she went back to the embrace of the street, and had been pounding pavement ever since, biting her tongue as she awkwardly beseeched everyone she knew. The girl hated saying please. She briefly considered going home, until she recalled the wall of raised voices she faced and therefore, in desperation, she had made one final call.

There were strings attached to this arrangement, there always had been, she could just about cope with the implications, what Quinn couldn't stand, were the emotions beneath the surface, speeding up the boy's heart and filling his eyes with things she wished she hadn't seen. It wasn't just a random hook-up for him anymore, and she couldn't undo that, or go back to the days when it was just mindless touching in the dark. Feelings had twisted everything for him whilst her outlook stayed the same and it was almost cruel to keep wading in. Unfortunately Quinn had been left with nowhere else to turn. She didn't want to be held or listen to whispered sweet nothings, experiencing the guilt that forced her to say things she didn't mean. With him, everything she did was wrong and it torn them both apart, piece by piece until she couldn't remember how it felt to be whole.

Honestly, Quinn would have liked nothing more than clean sheets and her own bed and she allowed herself a hopeless moment of indulgence to imagine what it would feel like to just be, with nobody to hurt or disappoint, and it was then typically, with her eyes firmly shut and lost in her thoughts, that she was ambushed.

"I thought it was you, you're kind of memorable."

Despite being startled, she didn't miss a beat. "Oh really, here's me thinking that you'd know a lot of girls with pink hair." She drawled sarcastically. "It must be almost commonplace, the crazy circles you run in."

The petite brunette seemed oblivious to her mockery. "Actually, I'm kind of new to the scene." Rachel replied with a bashful smile that in spite of herself, Quinn found ridiculously endearing. She suppressed whatever malicious comments she had been about to spew, since making this girl cry wouldn't make her feel any better, and she had an inkling that witnessing it would, in fact, only make her more miserable. Instead she shrugged, lighting a cigarette. The action was more so that she didn't have to force an answer, rather than based upon any real craving for nicotine. Nonetheless, she blew a perfect smoke ring, eying her companion slyly from behind the partial cover of her untrimmed fringe. Rachel hadn't stopped talking the entire time, and she refocused to find the girl apologising for the misunderstanding as though it had consumed her. Quinn hadn't been aware that there was one, as far as she was concerned she was perfectly attuned to how the story played out. It was ancient history for her anyway, especially because a lot could happen in 6 days. All the same, she nodded along, eager that the action would be enough to rid her of her new companion.

"Anyway, I'm waiting for someone so, whilst it has been lovely to chat…" She didn't even want to go, she just couldn't stay. Every second was chipping away at her resolve and she needed this frame of mind, it was better for them both. For that reason, Quinn hoped that the hint would be taken, though she wasn't at all surprised when it was dismissed, Rachel obviously marched to the beat of her own drum. Quinn wouldn't have considered it odd if she had burst into song. She smirked briefly at the mental image until her mirth was wiped away by the brunette's next question.

"What happened to your hand?" There was genuine concern behind the words, and it had been so long since the girl had been on the receiving end of any such genuine emotions from somebody that didn't expect something in return, that she was at a loss, rendered effectively speechless. As a result, whilst being aware that her silence was making her appear like some strung out loser, despite being completely sober, there was nothing she could do to make her brain cooperate and the more she tried to force it, the less she was able to engage. Quinn Fabray had short circuited. It didn't help that Rachel grasped her battered knuckles with such tenderness that she was completely immobilised, becoming increasingly dismantled by the contact. It was unnerving. Everything else faded from view until it was just the two of them standing there. The other girl misinterpreted the silence, ignorant of her mental struggles. "I'm not a Nark, I won't tell." Rachel insisted. She smiled again and compassion flooded her brown eyes anew until it seemed uncontainable. "It can be our little secret." The conspiratorial whisper was meant as a joke and yet Quinn's stomach twisted involuntarily. She flinched, having heard that same phrase many times before. It did make her mind up for her though, and gave her the strength to tug her hand away and flee. She didn't offer any explanations, or relent as Rachel called after her, trying frantically to keep pace.

Confident she had escaped; the girl finally rested against the aged brick and clicked her heels together impatiently as she bided time until her ride appeared. Quinn spotted the Mohawk first as she always did, the boy without a helmet, grinning lopsidedly as he weaved through the traffic. It made her sad to become conscious of the reality that this was one of the only constants in her life, that is to say, he was. Puck was a fixture she hadn't asked for, and didn't really want, but in that moment, she was happy to see him. As was customary, he simply nodded as Quinn put on the helmet he thrust at her and straddled the motorbike in one lithe movement, contentedly occupying the vacant space behind him. He knew the drill as well as she did.

_**What does it matter if you make the universe less hideous and the passing seconds less heavy?**_

The third time Quinn crossed paths with Rachel it wasn't a coincidence. After all, she knew of only one way to get the brunette out from under her skin, and so she asked around to find the brunette, praying that with this additional encounter she could put her jumbled mind at ease. She was sick of Rachel clouding her thoughts. Quinn tried to tell herself that this fantasy served only as a respite from the black hole she had fallen into, that she needed a spark to pry the stale taste of Puck from her lips. As fond of denial as she may have been, even she knew that it couldn't be a fairytale when she had to sink into the depths of her imagination whenever they shared a bed. It wasn't even the boy's fault. He treated her decent, better than the endless stream of girls that paraded in and out of his life. Puck cared about her, and it all would have been fine apart from the glaring truth that she just didn't feel the same. The girl couldn't compel herself to feel anything for him; these days she was even eluded by the temporary relief that lust used to provide. Nonetheless, knowing these truths about herself and her relationships changed nothing, it fell on deaf ears like her useless excuses for needing to see Rachel again. Clearly, it wasn't validation of her mistakes she sought, and if it was, she could find that around every corner.

"It's you again." It was inevitable that the other girl spoke first, Quinn wasn't about to volunteer, since the brunette was in the company of another Goth girl and the Asian was eyeballing her curiously. Although, the fact that she wasn't alone wasn't disheartening, on the contrary, it made Quinn happy to witness the interaction. To her, watching this unknown girl as she stepped towards the pair only highlighted the enigma of Rachel who was illuminated by a giant smile. Additionally, she was gently swaying to the screaming guitars as she spoke, not even trying to compete against the sound, simply expecting the pink haired girl to draw close enough to hear. Viewing this served to convince her that the brunette and the scene were a mismatch. The unfamiliar friend and Quinn herself were everything that was stereotypical, whereas Rachel on the other hand, transcended what was expected of her clique. She didn't wear a stereotypical forlorn expression, or clutch a red cup or notebook like a life raft. She wouldn't taste like ink or sorrow. That knowledge left her bewildered. Quinn had simply never met anyone like this girl before.

It was unsurprising then that her tongue felt heavy and useless, stuck to the roof of her mouth. At long last, she found the reserves to apply gentle but persistent pressure on the brunette's upper arm until she had steered her away. They ended up outside, silhouetted against the black sky. She was glad, the cold helped her focus and she couldn't float right then. She had to fix this, restore the chaos to the shambles of her existence. At least that had been the plan until Rachel twirled her skirts in the glow of the streetlight, jumping across the cracks in the sidewalk with childlike exuberance. Quinn couldn't tear her gaze away. All the while, the cogs inside her brain kept churning and attempting to fathom this girl that she was so drawn to_. _Seconds bled into minutes of silence before she finally settled on what to say, choosing words that were general enough that she could deflect if Rachel turned it back on her. "What are you doing here?" She was careful not to phrase it like an accusation.

"Tonight, I'm dancing; well, I was, until you tore me from the reach of the speakers." The brunette countered, turning her attention to Quinn for the first time since she had been lead outside. "What are you doing, why are we out here?"

"I wanted to talk to you."

Rachel laughed. "Oh, I see, now you want to talk. What's different between now and the other day?" She shrugged, more tongue-tied than ever. There was too much to vocalise and she didn't know where to start. It was something to be thankful for, at any rate, that they were alone. It was humiliating to resemble a pre-pubescent boy in the playground and if the other girl realised she was floundering, she didn't make allowances. The smirk that followed her chuckles remained firmly in place. "I haven't forgiven you for leaving by the way, it was very rude." Quinn couldn't take the faintly mocking tone. People were usually intimidated by her. She was being teased by a goody two shoes; things like this just didn't happen to her. She was fierce, a girl to be backed away from. She wasn't sure how the role reversal had happened, but she couldn't let it continue.

"I'm sorry, the formal acknowledgement of my farewell must have gotten lost in the mail."She exclaimed irritably.

"Don't do that; don't heap your scorn onto me." Rachel took a deep breath before sighing loudly. She didn't bother to conceal her irritation at Quinn's switch in demeanour. "Stop pretending that you're cold and unfeeling." The way the brunette saw through her was scarier that anything she'd faced, and she had confronted and fought a lot of people. She would have preferred a punch; she knew where she stood with regards to violence or insults. They rolled off her like water off a duck's back, they didn't steadily chip away.

Quinn could feel her disguise peeling faster than her stolen dime store nail varnish. Still though, she clung to her established patterns of behaviour. She was the girl who didn't let her mask slip, not ever. She let her aggression flow. It was safer to hate this girl. "This is who I am! You don't know me. You don't even know my fucking name!"

"Whose fault is that? You keep running." Rachel had a point, but she would never concede that. Her arms crossed her chest like armour. "Why don't you just ask me whatever it is that you're dying to know and then we can both be on our way?" The brunette had laid it all out for her, it couldn't have been any more straightforward, but still she hesitated. Her questions were the missing puzzle pieces that she had been silently seething over for days, gathering momentum and significance in her mind. "You are so frustrating! Just talk to me!" It was the first crack in the other girl's serene manner and gave Quinn a shot of much needed confidence. She seized it.

"Alright fine, why are you like this, Rachel? It doesn't fit. I cannot, for the life of me, connect the dots. You are the most irritatingly upbeat person I have ever met; I just don't see what you are getting from aligning yourself with posers like that girl in there, acting like one of them when, I can already tell, just from talking to you for longer than a nanosecond, that it isn't who you are." The brunette stepped forward, she was near enough to touch, their faces only inches apart, but the tension stopped all Quinn's thoughts of a caress. In place of that she opted to swallow thickly, refusing to shrink backwards or move forwards and therefore trapped in an abnormal limbo of inaction.

Rachel's eyes were ablaze, darkened by fury that was visible even in the dim light. "How did you get to be so judgemental? That girl in there, Tina, she's my friend, and she's the sweetest, most genuine person I've met in this whole town." The other girl paused, shaking her head, and Quinn identified the gesture for what it was, as a side-effect of trying and failing to calm down. "So I like to take a quiet moment to sit alone with Edgar Allan Poe or Sylvia Plath, that doesn't mean I'm suicidal or obsessed with death. I like these clothes, they make me feel…it doesn't matter. The point is that I wouldn't dream of assuming to know you based on the behaviour of your friends or what you decide to wear, and I would expect the same courtesy. People are multi-faceted, you know, we don't all live according to clichés. Don't automatically define me as depressed or broken." The emphasis on the words left Quinn in no doubt of her intention, Rachel was denying ardently that she was in any way like her, and that distance, although she had grown accustomed to it and even wilfully sought it prior to moments like this, was painful now. Rachel started crying, hot pent up tears of frustration sliding down her cheeks. T didn't take a genius to interpret that her speech had been eager to break free for a while. Rachel wasn't lost completely to her sorrow though, there was still anger lurking behind those eyes. She resisted the steps that Quinn took towards her. "Don't, I am so sick and tired of defending myself to everyone. I thought you'd be different."

"Rachel, I…" What was there to say? She had single-handedly managed to upset and offended the girl doing the longest exchange they had ever shared. She had barely spoken more than 100 words and yet she had fucked everything up_. _She had broken all her rules and it had only served to remind her why she had them in the first place. Quinn Fabray needed damage limitation.

"Forget it, you call my friends posers, you say I don't fit. You're the one who's a fraud. For what it's worth, here are my thoughts; I believe, in fact, I'm certain, that you're so concerned for my motivations because you're the one who's hiding. Prove me wrong. Tell me right now; who are you really, underneath the hair dye and custom bought combat boots?" The next sentence was a whisper, but somehow it was all the more affecting for that. It carried across the night air, hitting Quinn squarely in the chest. "Do you even know?" She asked, before taking her cue to walk away. It was Rachel's turn to leave her standing alone and cowed by the sting of the words. She didn't follow, although she had beaten up other people for a lot less; just watched the brunette retreat until there were only shadows and stars to keep her company.

_**Many a flower unwittingly loses its perfume, sweet as a secret, in deep solitudes…**_

Rachel's parting shot stuck with Quinn after the rest of the night and many others since had been obliterated from her memory. There wasn't enough booze in the world to soothe her soul in that regard. She had no idea why she wasn't content. She had the whole story now. So, she hadn't gotten the answer she craved, and Rachel wasn't a lost kid, but it should have been enough to know, that is what she had told herself endlessly. The mystery was solved. That was insignificant though, Quinn found herself thinking of Rachel more, not less. Late at night, when she cried to lull herself with a bottle of vodka or some sleeping pills for company, tucked between the sheets, her psyche went over and over each syllable of that last conversation. The truth of it was what made it a deadly blow. Rachel had torn her down so easily, effortlessly decoded the way she had projected her own lack of belonging, her own crisis', onto a girl that she didn't really know at all. Her observations had all been skin deep, shallow. That was why she continued to curse every word that had come out of her own mouth long after. She analysed each moment, twisting them over in her mind until the torment became too much. Upon reflection, her stupidity was dazzling, her lack of tact blinding. Quinn couldn't make a new first impression, but maybe, she could dull the outlines of her old ones. She had to try; she couldn't give up this time. Rachel was different.

Knowing what she had to do didn't make the task any easier. Quinn waited one more day before walking into a featureless café on the outskirts of town, her confidence worn away like the knees of her favourite jeans. She took the chair opposite, feeling faintly ridiculous. "Hi." She muttered quietly. Rachel looked up from the pages of her book and she didn't recognise the cover. The brunette removed a single ear bud, the corners of her mouth upturned as she fought off a smile. She didn't speak so Quinn filled the silence. "Don't worry; I've done all my cardio for the week." It was a lame joke, yet the other girl laughed as though it was the funniest thing she ever heard, whereas she could only smirk, revelling in the absurdity of the situation more than anything.

"Well, since you're staying, we should order you a drink, what would you like?"

She waved away the suggestion. "No, I didn't come here for coffee; I came to tell you that I'm sorry." It had been years since she had said those words. Strangely though, they didn't catch in her throat as she'd feared. "Also, I thought you should know that my name is Quinn." She added after a moment.

Rachel appraised her, her eyes trailing up and down before lingering over her face, where the gaze finally levelled itself. "You look more like a Lucy to me." Quinn winced involuntarily at the mention of her Christian name, a name that didn't belong to her anymore. She was that girl on paper only, and it felt fake to her to see the identity even spelled out in ink. Lucy conjured up unpleasant memories and left a bad taste in her mouth. She retorted with a harsh intake of breath, not trusting herself to speak, as the brunette surveyed her, puzzled. Rachel didn't understand her reticence and Quinn wasn't about to rake over her scars.

"Quinn." She repeated, keeping her voice as flat as possible, betraying nothing.

"If that's the way you want it."

The girl was suddenly overwhelmed by the desire for a cigarette and her right hand twitched, clutching for the small disposable lighter in her breast pocket. A nervous habit.She didn't move though, knowing that if she left, that would be it, no coming back. "It's the way it is, what I want has nothing to do with it."

The curious brunette didn't push anymore despite the fact that Quinn detected countless questions burning in the rich brown orbs when she eventually dared to make fleeting eye-contact. "Nothing is ever clear-cut with you, is it? Even an introduction, which should be the simplest thing in the world." The other girl got up from the table, but before she could panic she had scared Rachel off and thereby instigated a repeat of the last time, the brunette took her hand, ensuring that she trailed alongside. She allowed herself to be lead for one time only. As it happened, she had read her mind, and in one smooth movement she reached over and lit Quinn a cigarette, even remembering to cup her palms against the breeze. The girl was stunned.

"Were you a pick-pocket in another life?" She murmured, witnessing the deftness that the girl used to rummage quickly through her pocket and locate what she needed. It was more than impressive, it was sexy. Nobody had ever caught her unawares like that before, and Quinn's pulse jumped and skittered in response. It felt like her first time again as she succumbed to light-headedness that had nothing to do with the rush of nicotine in her bloodstream and everything to do with the close proximity of Rachel. The force of the brunette's laughter tickled her neck as it ricocheted through the air between them.

"You'll come to learn that I have many talents." The girl's voice dropped an octave, and Quinn raised her eyebrow. Her cheeks flushed crimson and she ducked her head, trying to mask her awkwardness. She was supposed to be this impenetrable and unshakable badass, and yet her knees had been reduced to jelly with one innocuous phrase. It was nothing, innocent, she had talked dirtier with Ronnie and Shelia to pass the time and ease her boredom on numerous afternoons when they hung out under the bleachers, and yet, there was something about Rachel's sultry tone that negated the clout of all her usual brash innuendos.

She resented that the brunette had all the control. However, things didn't have to remain that way. So far as she saw it, the world was built on an endless stream of give and take, she had offered an apology freely, and now she had to balance the scales. Since there was only one thing she could think that she wanted, she tried her luck. They were still standing close, so there wasn't much of a gap to negotiate, and the brunette had already braced herself against the side of the building, trying to get comfortable, so Quinn simply leant in and pressed her lips to Rachel's. She tasted like watermelon, from her lip balm, Quinn assumed and the citrus tones of the iced tea she had been sipping earlier. It was heavenly.

It aggrieved her to pull away, conscious of the fact that she on the other hand, likely tasted like an ashtray. "Sorry." She whispered. It was a reflex, and she was actually unaware that she had even apologised again, too busy flicking the smouldering cigarette to the ground and crushing it under her heel. However, her admission didn't escape Rachel's notice.

"Two apologies in as many minutes, a girl could get used to this."

"Don't, it isn't customary." Quinn responded obstinately, her chin jutting out again as she sulked. This wasn't the way things went. Typically, she was the cool and collected one who left girls wanting more. She was a bitch, an ice queen; she didn't express regret for anything. Ineptitude was something other girl's suffered from, she didn't recognise the blushing, awkward mess she had become. Everything was unsettled and no sooner than she could recover her wits, Rachel pulled her close again, their mouths crashing together for a second time.

"We'll see about that." The brunette murmured through snatched breaths, smiling into the kiss.

_**On your deep hair, with its bitter perfumes, a scented wandering sea of blue and brown waves, my dreamy soul sets sail for a distant sky….**_

Quinn sighed, losing herself fully to the embrace. She clung to soft strands of hair, curling at the ends, refusing to come up for air. She couldn't let Rachel go; she just wanted things to stay like this for as long as possible. She breathed it in, all of it, storing it away. No amount of detail was too much. Later, when she lay down to sleep behind her locked door in a house where she didn't feel right, Quinn wanted to remember it all, to be able to relive the moment with utter clarity. If this was the only perfect thing she ever experienced, at least she could keep it with her when everything got unbearable. Therefore, it was important to her that she was left with more than a flurry of tangled emotions and a flash of blue.


End file.
